“I’m on the phone with Dawn Williamson.”
“Again?” Kayetta asked. “Well, better you than me.”
"Thanks," I whispered, rolling my eyes. Dawn Williamson was one of our most wealthy and most needy clients. She was passed over to me after two of the partners and another senior associate decided they'd had enough. She sues people for a living. Since her husband died leaving her a hefty insurance policy she decided to hoard that money and instead use the judicial system as a source of income.
She was suing The Drake Hotel for over two million dollars for slipping and falling on the marble steps in their lobby. You see I said she fell ON not DOWN the steps. She did slip. She did fall. She did get hurt. A sprained ankle and a torn dress. But she’s going to fight them tooth and nail to get every penny she can. This had been going on for over a year now with no progress.
“Uhm, when you are done with all this you need to come to the lobby.” Kayetta wrinkled her nose. “It’s kind of serious.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll just have to see for yourself.” Kayetta closed the door quietly before I tapped the mute button and listened to Dawn rattle on about her medical bills.
It was another fifteen minutes before I emerged from my office. Everyone was looking at me, smiling, giggling.
"Is my slip showing? Did my blouse go see-through on me?" I whispered to Kayetta who was typing away at her desk.
"Honey, please just go help the receptionist. She's having a freakout."
As I approached the lobby I heard several girls talking and chit-chatting like hens in a henhouse. As soon as I came through the door I saw why.
“Yikes!” I smirked. “Who died?”
There were seven stunning bouquets of flowers on the receptionist’s desk and two more on the floor. Most of them were roses in pink and red and white. But there were also tiger lilies and carnations and some strange exotic bird-looking things that were brilliant orange and yellow colors.
“These are all for you.” The receptionist said.
“What?” I choked.
“Yup. Every one of them is for you.”
I walked up to the red roses. The cool, sweet smell hit me before I could even touch the card tucked inside.
The little note read “I’m Sorry” with a crying teddy bear. “Please talk to me” was scribbled on the card and it was signed Lucas. Not Lucas Prine. Just Lucas.
The rest said similar sentiments.
Once all the flowers were brought to my office it looked like I’d opened up a florist shop. I could barely move around.
The phone was ringing. I noticed my email had popped up with several more requests from the partners for status on my caseload. Three files had fallen to the floor and were spread out sloppily. I was so pissed off I couldn't take it.
“Tilly?” Kayetta held the phone up with her hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s Lucas Prine.”
“Send it in.” I grit my teeth and slipped on my headphones. “Telula Grant.” I barked.
“Tilly. Thank you for taking my call.”
“Listen to me, Lucas. Flowers are what you give to someone when they are dead. Just consider me dead, okay. Because this doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t change anything. Stop bothering me.” I growled through clenched teeth then hit the disconnect button.
The flowers are pretty.
"It's a scam," I muttered. "A sick joke to sucker me in again. I won't fall for it." My eyes began to sting so I kept my door shut for the rest of the afternoon and tried to push Lucas out of my mind. It
was hard with every kind of flower sent from him staring back at me for the next several days.
"Hi, mom," I said into the phone. Normally, I called my parents every couple of days from home. They weren't too friendly toward the personal phone calls at Gray & Stein. My mom knew that so two weeks after the flower incident you can imagine how shocked I was to hear from her. "Is something wrong?"
“No. Nothing is wrong.”